Carry You Home
by TheEscalatorHasBecomeStairs
Summary: Middle Earth faces great peril should Aragorn fail in his quest. Veracessa always knew something was missing from her life. Imagination required, as this story doesn't follow Tolkien's ideology. Aragorn/OFC. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I have that dream; Aragorn does not belong to me. Neither does Boromir. *sob* Veracessa does, though. So hands off, perverts!

Chapter 1

The new king roamed the pristine interior of his palace aimlessly. His subjects began to gossip amongst themselves that the king's loss of conscious thought was a result of possession by a sinister force, just as Theodrin had been possessed.

Truth be told, the king was possessed. Not by any person, but rather the memory of one. Aragorn knew exactly when the strange behavior began to overtake his own lighthearted ways. He relived the moment so many times he was almost numb to the pain it caused him. Almost.

_"Arwen? Arwen! Where is she?" Aragorn demanded of Elrond. His calloused hands itched to strangle the smug Elf._

_ "She has sailed into the West. She has heeded the wishes of her father, and for that she will be rewarded in the next life," Lord Elrond smirked as he turned and left Aragorn standing in the middle of the battlefield._

_'What good is a victory over Sauron if I cannot have the love I desperately need?' Aragorn's bitter __subconscious prodded him._

"-orn!" Aragorn was shaken out of his memory by the Woodland elf he had come to consider a brother.

"My apologies, Legolas," Aragorn intoned, engaging in a brotherly embrace with the Elf who had saved his life countless times before.

"Gandalf sent me to find you. He says it's urgent. You'd better come quickly," the Elf stated coolly.

The two men were greeted in the halls by Gimli who fell into step and walked with Aragorn and Legolas.

"I'll be clean shaven before I let an Elf be more informed than me," the Dwarf half-joked.

As the group reached Gandalf's tower study, their expressions turned quizzical as they observed the Palantír out of its encasement and nestled in the stand in the center of the room.

"Aragorn, my boy, you need to see what the Palantír has to show you. Prepare yourself. It is not a pleasant premonition. These are shadows of what will be lest a dramatic change comes to this land," and with that, Gandalf motioned Aragorn to the magic sphere.

As the light and dark began to form into shadows, and those shadows turned into figures and events, Aragorn's expression changed from hopelessness to outrage to grief. Finally, he ripped himself from the ball's mystical hold and sank to his knees. After a long moment, he raised his head to Gandalf.

"How do I stop this?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I have that dream; Aragorn does not belong to me. Neither does Boromir. *sob* Veracessa does, though. So hands off, perverts!

Chapter 2

Veracessa was lost. And not in the manner that can be solved by simply finding a map, or a kindly and well-informed stranger. Veracessa was adrift on a sea of rejection and crushed hopes. She couldn't remember a time when she was able to smile without having to fake it. What she found difficult to understand is even though she had a decent place to live, enough friends to qualify for their own postal code, and a job she loved with people who loved her in return, she still had a gaping, jagged hole in her life.

When her parents were killed in a freak train wreck when she was seven, she was left with foster parents who were always too high or wasted to remember their own names, let alone remember to give her money for school lunch. The whole time, she had been answering to Victoria because her foster family couldn't be bothered to learn her real name.

When Veracessa was 12, she was given the opportunity to find her calling. Her best friend had been in dance classes since she could walk, and had been begging Veracessa to attend one with her. Finally, Veracessa was allowed to attend. When she began to follow along with the other girls, she fell in love.

Her instructor took note and spoke with her after class. Soon, Veracessa was attending the beginner classes and was rising quickly. It wasn't long before she was able to tie on her pointe shoes and dance with the studio's best.

On her 16th birthday, the owner of the studio offered her a principle role in the studio's performing company, as well as a place to stay if Veracessa agreed to teach a few classes a week. By the time she turned 18, Veracessa had become a full time dance teacher with an apartment above the studio. She had a beautiful life, and she knew it. Something was missing though. She couldn't put her finger on it, but certainly, there had to be something that had been overlooked.

As she sat on a bench waiting for the train to the Performing Arts Center, she suddenly caught a vision of a man, cloaked in black sneaking into what appeared to be a nursery with an onyx-studded dagger held aloft over an angelically sleeping baby boy. Before the man could carry through with his deed, the vision was interrupted by the screeching of the train pulling into the station.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I have that dream; Aragorn does not belong to me. Neither does Boromir. *sob* Veracessa does, though. So hands off, perverts!

Chapter 3

"You must enter the realm where only man and beast reside. It is far different than our own dimension and is riddled with things you will not understand. You must seek out a woman. She will have skin as pale as cream, hair as red as a blazing sunset, and eyes as clear and blue as the ocean to the West. You must find her and bring her back to Middle Earth with you," Gandalf told Aragorn.

The king eyed the white wizard with curiosity before he rose to his feet and drew in a deep breath.

"What is her name? Where can I find her? How will I know if she is the one of whom you have spoken?" Aragorn's questions flooded out of him before he could stop them.

"When you find her, you will know. I will be able to place your search party inside the city she inhabits, but as to where to find her, I leave you to your own ingenuity. Assemble those with whom you choose to travel and meet back here no later than the stroke of midnight," Gandalf instructed.

As the Man, Elf, and Dwarf immediately set out to prepare themselves for this journey, Aragorn couldn't help but wonder what part this mysterious woman would play in the salvation of his kingdom. He had been raised to believe that a woman did not belong in battle. Even Eówyn could not sway his opinion, though she was skilled with a sword. But, if Gandalf believed she would be pivotal, then Aragorn would not distrust him. Gandalf had always been a good friend and trusted advisor.

It was a quarter to midnight and Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli stood in a circle in the council chamber. Gandalf was advising them on the proper social customs and norms that were acceptable, and about things they should avoid.

"Gandalf, I only have one question before we are spirited away to this place. What significance does this woman have? A mortal woman is common in Middle-Earth. Why must we reach out to what we do not understand and find a woman who doesn't understand us?" Aragorn asked tentatively.

"She is a rightful member of this world. She was sent away from here with her mother, when it was foretold that her father would be unable to protect her from peril. Now that she is of age, she may return to this world of her own free will. Now, you must hurry, or your opportunity will be passed and the kingdom will be doomed."

"Alright, Gandalf, we are ready," Aragorn closed his eyes, preparing for the transport. Gandalf began to recite an ancient spell. Before he knew it, Aragorn was being twisted away from Middle-Earth and through the interworld. Gimli and Legolas were not far behind.

When they touched solid ground again, they had but a moment to survey their surroundings before having to dive out of the way of a behemoth metal beast. As they jumped from its path, Aragorn's hand instinctively flew to his sword's hilt, grasping the weapon like he'd done all his life. A restraining hand on his shoulder ceased his movements. Legolas eyed his friend.

"You remember what the Wizard said, Elessar. These people do not take kindly to public displays of violence. Behold, the people inside the beast do not appear distressed. They come and go from its belly at will. It bears them no ill."

As he surveyed his surroundings more, he found that the people around him were quite calm and almost blasé about the presence of the monstrous contraption. When its doors opened, a flood of the passengers poured forth from the belly. Suddenly, Aragorn's keen Ranger's eyes detected a flash of red hair and a streak of pale white skin. Then, his heart pulled suggestively. He held a hand over his chest to steady himself after the onslaught of emotions he had been subjected to, the most powerful of them being the intense lust he felt simply by looking at the girl. Legolas was attuned to the emotions pouring from the king and discretely related to Gimli what the king was feeling. The ever tactful dwarf clapped Aragorn on the shoulder and smiled.

"Well, lads, if she can cause that reaction from the level headed King Elessar, what are we waiting for? Let's go get her!" With that, he began to follow her. The other two caught up quickly and were soon walking in formation again. They followed her into a building but soon lost the trail when she disappeared into a crowd of fast-moving people. They followed the pack until they caught up with it, on the way noting scantily-clad women, lean, lanky men, and herds of small and giggling children.

Aragorn realized it was hopeless to find her as the hallways began to wind and fork. He stopped at a sign that read "Information" and waited for the woman to turn around.

His surprise was difficult to mask as the woman turned around to show that it was no woman at all! The young man was dressed as a woman! It was a clever disguise, to be sure. However, it was the young man's appreciative once-over of both himself and Legolas that made him wonder if it were truly a disguise, or did this man genuinely fancy himself a woman? Nonetheless, Aragorn was here for answers.

"I am looking for a young woman who passed by here not long ago. She has flaming hair and pale skin. Can you help me?"

"Sugar, I most certainly can! You're gonna go left at this fork in the hallway, and then turn right, then three doors down will be the practice room. She's working with her charge today, but she leaves the door open. Just go in and wait for her."

"You have my thanks," Aragorn told the man.

"Can I have the rest of you?" He asked boldly, but Aragorn was already tearing down the hall and around the corner, the other members of his troupe close behind.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So, update. I have claimed ownership of the whole trilogy and every character therein. Also the movies; so now that I own Viggo as Aragorn, I'm going to do unspeakable things…just kidding. The lawyers standing behind me nearly popped blood vessels…teehee. But seriously, the ideas and concepts belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and the lovely images we see in our heads belong to Peter Jackson. I own nothing but the minor characters and new faces in the story. However, you may rent them for the small fee of fresh chocolate chip cookies as I am a starving college kid who has no access to these tiny, yet fat-inducing treats. On with the story!

Aragorn followed the man's directions quickly, mentally checking them off as he flew down corridors and hallways. He didn't even glance back to ensure his troupe was following him. When he came upon the open door, he strode in.

"My lady, I know how unlikely this will sound but—Oh! I beg your pardon!" Aragorn quickly turned around and covered his eyes. "I was unaware you were indecent! I beg your forgiveness at intruding during such a vulnerable position." He flushed as red as when he was a boy and received his first kiss on the cheek from a beautiful, but awkward half-Elf girl. It was then that he realized that his companions must have become lost in the twisting underground labyrinth that he had attempted to lead them through. It was of no use to try to find them and end up with all of them lost. They were resourceful and could find him on their own.

"What are you talking about? I am NOT indecent. I am working. Can I help you with something, or do you just barge in on people's jobs for fun?" Veracessa was incensed at having been talked down to like some kind of tramp. She heard a small tinkling giggle from her student who had ceased to begin warming up in favor of watching her mentor tear the intruder a new one.

"My lady, I meant no disrespect. Please dress yourself so that I may turn and face you as is proper," Aragorn pleaded.

"I am perfectly decent the way I am. If you have a problem with it, that's all you," she responded, folding her arms.

"I was raised to believe that women were not to be seen in certain stages of undress lest the viewer be her husband." He implored, trying to stress his discomfort. He would have been content to look at her, were it not for the growing bulge in his trousers.

"You're one of those Mormons aren't you? The kind with like 12 wives," she said, hoping to offend the strangely dressed man out of her sight. It didn't appear to be working.

"I have no wife of which to speak," he said. She was unnerved by the fact that he wouldn't turn around until she dressed. She put on her sweater over her leotard and knit Capri pants over her calf length tights.

"Alright, you can turn around now, Sir Prude," she remarked acerbically with her hands on her hips. When he did turn, the wind was almost knocked out of her from the flood of emotions she felt screaming through her like a bullet train. She placed a hand in the center of her chest as her mouth fell slightly open. She was pulled out of her stupor by a tender pulling on her pants leg at the hands of a small child. Out of instinct, she reached down and picked up the four year old, settling the orphan she had been given charge over on her hip. Aragorn picked up on the nurturing behavior and smiled to himself. Yes, she would make a great mother to his children and heirs.

"So, what was it you said you needed?" she asked, cradling the young child to her side as she had done for the last year and a half.

"Well, frankly, my lady, you," he blurted, hoping to get it out in the open and over with. Her wide eyed expression was doing nothing to quell the apprehension he felt after having stated his purpose.

"Wow, I really need to have my hearing checked. For a second it sounded like you said you needed me," she said incredulously. When he made no effort to correct any mistakes in her logic, she sighed heavily. "You did, didn't you?" He nodded and approached her, closing the expanse of space between them.

"I know you may not believe me, but I come from a world far different from this one. I am a king there. Please, I have been shown by my advisor that you are the only person who can keep us from total ruin. I beg you my lady, please. Do not sacrifice our women and children for your disbelief."

"What world are you from?" She couldn't help herself from asking, even though he sounded totally insane.

"I come from Middle Earth. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur, and King Elessar of Gondor," he said, willing her to believe him.

"I find this all really hard to believe. I'm sorry I can't help you," she said, feeling uncomfortable at the feelings of familiarity with the titles and names he was spouting. She turned to pick up the remote control for the sound system when he wrapped his hand around her free arm, mindful of the child attached to her side. "Get your hands off me! I don't know you from a troll and you need to stop touching me!"

"Please my lady, allow me to prove it to you. What do you want me to do? I will prove myself to you if it takes a thousand years, but we don't have that much time!" he told her fervently. She removed her arm from his grasp and reached up to her neck where a thin chain held a flat pendant with a foreign inscription hung. She removed the necklace and held it out to him.

"I have several friends who specialize in dead languages and none have been able to translate this. If you can find out what it says, I will do exactly as you say." He took the necklace and looked closely at the pendant. He could immediately recognize the letters but was unable to translate them. They were Tengwar, but very, very old. He knew Legolas could probably translate them, but his companions had not yet found him. He had to find them if he wanted to get her to believe him and help save the kingdom. Just then, his companions came barreling into the room followed closely by a crowd of about ten lanky men all trying to get their hands on Legolas. Gimli was struggling to keep up and was beginning to trip over his own feet.

"Quick, Elf! Hide behind the woman with the child! Surely they will not trample her!" he exclaimed, ducking behind Veracessa. Legolas did the same and the herd stopped, looking very dejected at having been outrun. Aragorn had begun to laugh at his two friends, both of whom he had seen face the most terrifying beasts of their world turned to frightened children under the gaze of amorous attention.

"Alright everyone, your little game is over. Clear off, and let me do my job, please," Veracessa intervened on behalf of the two cowering fools behind her. As the last of their pursuers left the room, Veracessa turned to Aragorn with a raised eyebrow.

"More freaks from the psychosis circus?" she asked as she shifted her cargo to her other hip. It was nearing her naptime and these buffoons had eaten up the entire hour of rehearsal time she had allotted before the girl had to be put down to nap. This meant that the schedule had been all but shot to hell for the next two days. If Abagail didn't practice at the correct time, she would have to practice after dinner. That meant bathtime would be delayed, thus delaying bedtime. The owner of the studio and adjoined art school was kind, but much regulated with regard to the girls' schedules.

"Legolas, I need you to translate this. It's in a very old dialect of Tengwar. I can't make it out," Aragorn handed the necklace to the slightly disheveled elf. He read it a couple of times, just to make sure he was properly seeing the text before speaking.

"It says 'The Jaws of Fate will not recognize Veracessa when she returns to us'. It is a very old dialect indeed. Perhaps from the middle of the second age, but Gandalf will know more," the elf said, handing the piece of jewelry back to the king. Aragorn, in turn strode behind Veracessa and fastened the necklace securely back around her neck. Before he could stop himself, he ran the tips of his fingers down the center of her spine, causing a chill to run through her whole body. The electric spark that encompassed them caused Aragorn to draw back quickly.

"Well, that solves the mystery of your name, my lady. And a beautiful name it is at that," Aragorn said, regaining his composure.

"Thank you, for the compliment, and for solving my lifelong riddle. Now, I gave my word, and I do not go back on my word. What would you have me do?" she asked, the dreadful feeling of uncertainty washing over her as her stomach felt like it had dropped to her feet.

"We will stay long enough for you to gather your things, those of your ward and make any final arrangements. Then, we will depart for Middle Earth at this time tomorrow," Aragorn said, taking charge of the situation.

"I can't take Abagail. Sure, I'll put my life in danger, but not hers," Veracessa protested. Abagail understood what was going to happen and she began to cling on for dear life, almost choking her guardian out in the process. She began screaming for Veracessa not to leave her. Veracessa detached her arms from under the girl to begin prying at her arms for air.

"Sweetie, you *cough* have to let go *cough cough*!" She choked out. The girl released her grip only slightly, but it was enough that Veracessa could breathe again.

"I guess you're coming with me," she said, shaking her head. Aragorn smiled at the docile manner in which Veracessa handled an unruly child. She would be a good mother, indeed. Legolas stepped up beside Aragorn as Veracessa set Abagail down and began dressing the girl in street clothes over her dancewear.

"You are sure she is the one? Gandalf said nothing about the child," the elf said quietly in Sindarin.

"I am sure. Gandalf may be wise, but he cannot possibly know everything. Besides, if she were not the one, explain why she would have a necklace written in a language that does not come from this world, but from ours," Aragorn replied, smiling as he watched her wrangle the small girl, who had decided that she wanted to wear her tutu, and therefore was going to be all knees and elbows until she got her way. Veracessa finally gave up and jammed the girl's pants into her book bag and bent to help Abagail put her street shoes on. When they were both ready, Veracessa led Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli out of the building with Abagail attached to her hip. Veracessa felt that the city was a dangerous enough place for adults, but Abagail was just a baby and there were too many weirdoes out there that would hurt her baby without a second thought. Aragorn felt the need to walk right beside her on the side Abagail was on with Gimli on her other side, and Legolas bringing up the rear, effectively surrounding the new members of the royal family. When they boarded the train, they stood in similar fashion, completely surrounding the young woman and the child she guarded. Veracessa told them when to get off the train and they followed her to a parking lot outside the city near a decrepit looking building. She got a set of keys out of her bag and unlocked a dark blue SUV.

She began to walk toward the back of the vehicle and noticed the entire group followed her. "You can go ahead and get in. Won't be a moment," she said, setting Abagail down so she could throw both of their bags into the trunk. Aragorn was one step ahead of her and grabbed the bags from her shoulder, hoisting them into the vehicle before she could protest.

"Thank you," she replied, slightly dazedly. Aragorn was a true gentleman, something rare in this world. As Veracessa bent to reclaim Abagail, Aragorn shut the hatch door and stepped back. Opening the rear driver side door, Veracessa put Abagail in her car seat and buckled her in. Once everyone was in the car, Veracessa showed them how to buckle their seat belts. Hell if she was going to get a ticket because these foreigners didn't know what they were doing.

As soon as everyone was ready, Veracessa started the vehicle and put it in gear. The sun had just set and the streets were dark except for the headlights of Veracessa's car. Inside, the car was filled with Abagail's voice. The young girl was chattering away to Legolas, who was listening to her with patronizing interest. Aragorn decided he'd had enough of the eerie silence Veracessa was projecting, and tried to make conversation.

"Where were you raised, milady?" he asked, turning slightly toward her.

"Here, in this city. And please don't call me milady. It's highly unnecessary," she said, meeting his eyes for a moment before turning back to watch the road. It was a 45 minute drive to the studio.

"Why are your ears pointy?" Abagail's small voice asked Legolas. Veracessa started to scold her, but was silenced by Aragorn. "She has made no offensive remark. It was an honest question of childish curiosity," he said, resting his hand on Veracessa's over the gearshift.

"My ears are pointed because I am an elf, and elves have pointed ears," Legolas said gently to Abagail. The girl's face lit up at this information.

"Can you tell Santa that I was extra good this year? Please, please, pleeeeeeeease? I promise not to be bad at all!"

"Abagail, he's not that kind of elf. He's a forest elf," Veracessa corrected her pseudo daughter. Then, having realized what she said asked, "How did I know that? I don't know him from Adam, but I know what kind of elf he is."

Aragorn just smiled to himself. He definitely got the right girl. Now all he had to do was get her successfully back to Middle Earth and all would be well…maybe.

A/N: So I appreciate the subscriptions, but comments keep this baby on track. If you have an idea for the storyline, or a critique of the characters so far, you're more than welcome to leave them in a comment. However, please leave any torches or pitchforks at the door. Much love and Namaste.


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